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by TWriter



Series: To Fall or To Fly [2]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Wayne Manor, headed home, vague references to injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:13:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWriter/pseuds/TWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Bruce now realizes something must be up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Home

The drive to the manor was quiet.

Tim had opted to drive with Dick, returning the next day to retrieve his bike. The younger man still seemed to feel like something was off with his adoptive brother, but didn’t bring it up again that evening.

Dick was grateful. He could easily deflect the question, but not answering Tim when he asked what was wrong felt too close to lying. And lying to Tim seemed wrong on a variety of levels. He wanted the boy to know he could always trust Dick—and he certainly can’t trust a brother that lies to him.  
Pulling into the driveway of his childhood home, Dick felt a mixture of contentment and discomfort wash over him. Contentment as he remembered the good times he had here, but discomfort at the thought of the times he and Bruce had fought. This fights were more common as of late; it seemed the two men couldn’t be in a room together for more than an hour before it would begin. Dick wondered if Bruce was home. He might still be out on patrol.

The pair walked to the front door in silence. Tim started to dig out his keys, only for the door to be opened by the resident omniscient butler, Alfred.

“Ah, Master Timothy, I see you managed to pull in your brother! How marvelous!” announced the butler, his tone barely shifting from his general stoicism. Only those who truly knew Alfred could see the joy lurking in the barley upturned corners of his lips.

Dick grinned. “Hiya, Alfie. Miss me?”

“Always, my boy.” Alfred ushered the two to the kitchen, where there was finally enough light for the butler to see Dick fully. He was none too pleased with what he found.

“Master Richard, what on earth have you allowed to happen to yourself? Sit down at once.” Not waiting for a response, the butler all but shoved Dick into his usual chair, grabbing the young man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah, it’s worse than it looks, Alfie,” brushed off Dick, attempting to pull away.

“I’ll be the judge of that, young man. Now, down to the cave with you, we must see about these bruises. They simply won’t do.”

Dick sighed. “Sure, Alfie. Whatever you say.”

The trio walked to the study, taking the secret passage to the Batcave. Dick was thankful to see that Bruce was not around. Hiding anything from Tim was one thing, and hiding anything from Alfred was even worse. But Batman? Near impossible.

Dick sat on the bed set up specifically for this purpose while Alfred busied himself gathering supplies. Tim stood next to the bed, hovering over his older brother protectively.

Soon enough, Dick felt the familiar poking and prodding of the butler as he checked over his oldest pseudo-grandson.

Twenty minutes later, Dick was ready to collapse. All he wanted was to go back to his apartment and his bed. As Alfred wrapped the last of his injuries (“Three cracked ribs and a minor concussion, Master Dick, and you intended to sleep them off?”), Dick stifled a yawn, but nothing could escape Red Robin and the Bat-Butler.

“Why don’t you go up to your old room, Dick? Sleep a bit more before you have to go back.” Tim looked down at Dick, a look of concern painting his face.

“I should go home, guys. Wouldn’t want to impose,” yawned the elder.

“Master Dick, you could never. This is your home as much as Bludhaven, if not more,” responded Alfred.

“I still have a few things to take care of before I patrol tonight. I should really go—“Dick’s objection was cut off by a deep voice from the top of the stairs.

“Dick. Just go to bed,” said Bruce, walking into the light.

Silently, Dick slinked up the stairs toward his old room. Bruce blinked in surprise.

Something was wrong. Nightwing following orders? Sure that was fairly normal.

But Dick? Something had to be up.


End file.
